


Drabbles 2005-2007

by Garnigal



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-12 08:00:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 151
Words: 16,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18442382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garnigal/pseuds/Garnigal
Summary: These are the earliest fanfic I ever wrote (aside for the childhood ones that thankfully disappeared into the fireplace). Some are bad, some are all right - but they all helped me get where I am now.





	1. Cravings

Dawn was sobbing quietly upstairs when Buffy walked in the door. Buffy knew that her sister was trying not to be heard, but her Slayer senses kept bringing the sorrowful sound to her ears. It finally got to be too much so she plodded upstairs to comfort Dawn.

“What’s wrong?”

Hiccupping, choking and still with fat tears rolling down her thin cheeks, Dawn finally answered. “I have a craving for Mom’s roast chicken and dumplings.”  
When Willow and Tara finally got home from school, Buffy and Dawn were still sobbing and mumbling about food, wrapped up in each other’s arms.


	2. Party

Buffy stopped dead. Head tilted, she tried to identify the unexpected sound floating through the dark Roman night.

Her hand slid nearer the hidden stake. There! The wind died down for a moment and the raucous sound could be heard clearly. She turned left and ran silently.

Light spilled from around an old wooden door. Hesitantly, Buffy pushed the door open.

 _Could have been the whiskey, might have been the gin. Could have been three or four six-packs._ Italian accented voices sang along with the Irish Rovers.

Buffy grinned and reached for her cell phone. Dawn needed to hear this.


	3. Party 2

Rome is night after night of dancing alone in a crowd.  
Andrew loves the high life, and hits the classy clubs with subdued, sultry music and darkened corners. He’s in demand as a safe and graceful escort, and so what if he occasionally hides in shadowy corners with hot young Italian men?  
Dawn seeks out the joints that cater to American tourists. She wants music that she can sing along with and a crowd where everyone speaks English.  
Buffy heads for pumping bass, wailing guitar and flashing lights. The clubs she dances at cater to the young and the immortal.


	4. Valentine's Day

Arms crossed, Dawn pouted in her room. ‘Stupid Valentine’s Day. Everyone has a date, so I’m stuck at home with the babysitter,’ she thought resentfully.  
She’d whined her way through the day, hoping to guilt someone into staying, but instead she was sent to her room for being childish. Now Buffy and Joyce rushed happily around the house, primping.  
Downstairs, the doorbell rang. Dawn’s pout deepened. After a moment, someone tapped gently on her door. Buffy, Willow and Xander stood there, each holding out an offering; a card, a box of chocolates, a bunch of flowers, and three wide smiles.


	5. 100

Buffy sighed and watched her friends on the dance floor. Sunnydale was quiet so she took advantage of the lull to hit the Bronze, but somehow the thought of joining the hundred sweaty bodies already crushed on the dance floor didn’t appeal.  
Bored, her eyes roved restlessly around the crowd. Always aware, Buffy unconsciously scanned for enemies, but saw only classmates laughing in their cliques. A frission of awarenesss her shiver a moment before Angel’s hand touched the skin of her shoulder.  
“Wanna dance?” she asked. With Angel’s arms around her, the hundred sweaty bodies didn’t seem so bad.


	6. Awards

“Mom! I need another box!”  
Buffy stared at the shelves lined with cheerleading trophies, beauty queen tiaras, photographs and other evidence of her previous popularity, mentally trying to figure out how to fit them in the box. Everything else was packed, her mattress covered with a sleeping bag since her mom had already washed and boxed up the bedding. The clothes for tonight and tomorrow were in a small backpack on the bed, since most of the floor space was covered with boxes and suitcases. She’d deliberately left her trophies until last – they made it seem she still lived here.

Idly, she pulled open the drawers to check that they were empty. The drawer of her bedside table was stuck, so she yanked. The drawer suddenly came free, and Buffy sucked in a breath. One of Merrick’s stakes rolled forward from the back of the drawer. With shaking hands she grasped it. The weight and warmth of the wood calmed her. Slowly, she walked over to her backpack and stuck the stake in an easily accessible side pocket.  
Spying a black garbage bag, Buffy started tossing her old trophies inside.  
“Never mind, Mom. I don’t need another box after all.”


	7. Animal

It wasn’t until after Jordy bit him that he really understood.  
He understood the feeling of becoming suddenly other, of having power, violence and darkness running through his veins. He thought his neurons fired differently, his muscles contracted differently, even when he was at his most human.  
He watched Buffy. Like him, her power was sudden, unexpected and alien. He saw their similarities despite their differences: where she was loud, he was quiet, she was outgoing, and he was reserved. She was a leader, he was just another of her followers.  
She was a hunter, and he was an animal.


	8. Betrayal 1

It felt like betrayal.  
Everything had been going well. The sun was shining, some boys had hit on her, and some girls had started making friends. She’d be cool again. She could be the cheerleader, the prom queen. She could even be a good student and make her mother proud.  
Step one was go to the library, get the books, study. High school couldn’t be as hard as last year.  
Then the damn Englishman dropped that book in front of her and looked her knowingly in the eye. A heavy leather book, a dusty thud, and destiny screwed her again.


	9. Betrayal 2

He didn’t really understand why he’d dropped his guard. He’d blame it on the alcohol, but he’d given in long before that. There was just something about Ethan…  
He forced himself to stop thinking just what it was about Ethan. Ethan Rayne wasn’t the daring young man he’d run with in London, and the demonic visage staring out of the mirror was proof. Though if he was honest, the young men they’d been would have found this funny – to find some unsuspecting drunk Watcher and turn them into the enemy.  
Suddenly, Giles couldn’t remember if he was betrayer or betrayed.


	10. Spring

“I love Spring.” Buffy sighed happily.  
Faith just twitched an eyebrow. Buffy took that as encouragement and continued.  
“When I was six, I found a dead baby bunny. I ran to my dad, totally freaked out and girly.”  
That drew a laugh from Faith. Buffy was a good fighter, but there was no denying her girliness.  
“Dad explained survival of the fittest. Stupid young bunnies get killed; smart ones don’t.”  
“Yeah, Giles’s rule about not hitting the Bronze until we kill at least five vamps is a lot easier to manage when the fledglings are out.”  
The clock struck eight.


	11. Sacrifice

Whether it was Slayer’s sense or lover’s sense, she knew the instant Spike appeared from the amulet.

She felt him, ghostly and weak.

She felt him, fading and falling.

She felt him, fearful and worried.

She felt him, suddenly solid and strong.

She felt him, there in the back of her mind, constantly watching over her shoulder from thousands of miles away.

She thought about taking that chance when Andrew came home with a crazy girl and stories of a miraculous blond vampire. Somehow she knew it wasn’t for her. This was just another sacrifice she had to live with.


	12. Changes 1

The change was subtle.  
Buffy’s skirts got longer. She wore ‘slacks’; not jeans or sexy leather pants, but cream or buff-coloured linen.  
Dawn noticed first. She treated Buffy gently, smiling at her, hugging her, and keeping out of trouble.  
Willow was the one who noticed the secret smile, sphinx-like and mysterious. Giles commented that Buffy looked much healthier, tan and golden. Xander, of course, kept eying the larger breasts, but didn’t say anything. Andrew seemed oblivious, but cooked healthy meals.  
Patiently, breathlessly, they waited for the word.  
Finally, after three months, Buffy whispered her secret to Dawn. “It’s a girl.”


	13. Changes 2

“This sucks,” Dawn pouted.  
Dawn had gotten really whiny since Mom told them to start packing. Buffy ground her teeth behind her wide smile. All she wanted was to slap some sense into her little sister, to point out it was just as hard for everyone else, but she really didn’t want to end up back …there. The slightest hint of violence would be a bad thing.  
Instead, she took her cue from her Mom. She tried to be optimistic and helpful, cheerful and obedient. She couldn’t help it that she was still looking for things hiding in the shadows.


	14. Changes 3

When Buffy needed adoration, she turned to Angel.

When Drusilla needed passion, she turned to Angel.

When Buffy needed respect, she turned to Angel.

When Drusilla needed attention, she turned to Angel.

When Buffy needed adventure, she turned to Angel.

When Drusilla needed compassion, she turned to Angel.

When Buffy needed comfort, she turned to Angel.

When Drusilla needed excitement, she turned to Angel.

When Buffy and Drusilla needed love, they turned to Angel.

Spike was just the runner-up.

“Some things will never change,” Spike mused as he watched his grandsire’s dust float away in the cold Los Angeles dawn.


	15. Rewrite

Even as Anya suggested it, she knew it was a long shot. It didn’t matter to her what the Scoobies thought of her, but if the Xanders found it skeezy, they wouldn’t go for it.

Ignoring everyone else in the room, she sashayed over to her boys, swinging her hips and flipping her hair.

The Xanders swallowed, their mouths somehow dry at the exact same moment. Anya finally stood before them and ran a hand down each chest. “Please?” she whispered, turning doe-wide eyes on the boys.

“See you tomorrow!” the Xanders called, following a smug Anya into the night.

 

_Well, maybe we shouldn't do this reintegration thing right away. See, I can take the boys home, and ... we can all have sex together, and ... you know, just slap 'em back together in the morning. Anya, The Replacement_


	16. Rewrite 2

Spike took another step towards freedom, but then cursed. He set Drusilla down in the waiting car, grasped his new favourite weapon and sprang back into the fray. He swung the poker at Angelus’ back and grinned.

Angelus roared when Spike began his attack again. The sword slipped from his hand, and his attention wavered. He knocked Buffy back into the wall and turned on Spike.

Buffy leapt back to her feet, she saw the vampires growling and circling. From the corner of her eye she saw the vortex opening. She clutched her sword determinedly and started back towards Angelus.

~~~~~

Suddenly Angelus faltered. Spike pulled a stake out and was about to strike a killing blow when Buffy’s quiet voice stopped him.

In the silence, Angel’s sobs echoed. The only intelligible word was Buffy’s name.

Her heart both sang and broke as she stared at the sobbing thing before her. She knew she had no choice. Tears falling from her eyes, she knelt before him. She kissed him, watched his eyes flutter closed, stabbed him through the heart. She didn’t watch him vanish and the portal close.

Spike stepped toward Buffy and laid a comforting hand on her bowed head.

 

_ When Drusilla begins to fall Spike catches her, lifts her into his arms and starts to carry her out. On the way Spike passes the doorway to the atrium and glances outside. When he sees them he stops to take a better look. Buffy is backing up against the wall without her sword while Angelus slowly and deliberately advances on her holding his. _

_ “God, he's gonna kill her.”  Spike, Becoming II _


	17. News Report 1

It’d been months, and Xander still checked the newspaper every week. The ad was always there, the tone getting more and more desperate as time went on. First came a request for him to come home, then begging for just a phone call. Eventually the ad demanded “Have You Seen This Boy?”, and offered a reward for information.  
Xander thought about telling them some of the truth, convincing them that it was a lost cause, looking for their son. He couldn’t face Mrs. Milne though, so he left an anonymous note.  
The next week Jesse’s name was in the obituaries.


	18. News Report 2

Buffy hated the tabloids. Every week her normally sensible mother bought a couple. “It’s for fun,” Joyce defended. “I don’t make sarcastic comments when you watch FOX.”  
Buffy grumbled, but didn’t say anything else. Her mother was living in a fantasy world where a bump in the night meant a teen daughter sneaking out, a thief breaking in, or the house settling. It didn’t, couldn’t mean an enemy hiding in the shadows, a nefarious plan, or another damn apocalypse. So she couldn’t exactly tell Joyce that she disliked tabloids because they portrayed vampires and demons in a very unrealistic light.


	19. Time Travel

Buffy watched Angel through dark, pain-filled eyes. She saw his love for the fragile child in his arms, his passion. This time, though, she saw his love and passion turn dark, the pink blush rose of young romance turn black with mania and obsession. The girl in the bed slept on, peacefully unaware of the change in her lover’s demeanor.

Buffy considered waking the girl, but decided against it. This would be the last peaceful sleep 17-year-old Buffy would get for months. Older and wiser, Buffy turned her back on the scene. The past just had to play itself out.


	20. Beatles Songs 1

Spike smiled his dangerous smile. He’d worn glasses tonight, glasses he’d taken from someone he’d eaten somewhere. He remembered his reflection; glasses made him look vulnerable.  
He got the girl to follow his bashful eyes and sidelong glances – it always turned him on to have the prey trap itself. He led her to a dark, secluded spot. Secluded, if Drusilla hadn’t been waiting there already. He watched and laughed as Dru drained the girl. And Dru finished, the body dropped, and he was caught up in his lover’s vicious embrace…

Spike woke, cursing, from his dream of all those yesterdays.


	21. Beatles Songs 2

Giles looked over his vinyl collection. He was looking for something mellow, something lyrical, something to soothe his frayed nerves. The apocalypse had been averted, the evil had been killed, and tension still thrummed along his every nerve, adrenaline coursed through his bloodstream.  
He dropped a random Beatles record on the turntable, and set the needle down with pinpoint precision. It sang along in the background, a comforting counterpoint to luncheon and a familiar friend to his downtime.

When Yesterday came on, he leapt to his feet to change the record. He hated that song. Not everyone believed in yesterday.


	22. Beatles Songs 3

Yesterday. Sunnydale was empty, but it still existed. Spike and Anya still existed.  
Yesterday. Evil was winning. It was smarmy, smirky, arrogant and full of confidence.  
Yesterday. I was starting to regain my confidence, my position as the Captain of this little army.  
Yesterday. I had a plan. I was sure, I was swift, I was strong.

Today. My home lies in ruins, and some of my loved ones lie with it.  
Today. Evil is heading for the hills.  
Today. All eyes are on me, looking to me for leadership.  
Today. I haven’t got a clue where to go next.


	23. Somewhere Else

Sometimes she came back to herself. Sometimes she knew she was in the white room with the padded walls, with the doctors and nurses who drugged her to make her safe. 

Usually, though, she was somewhere else. Somewhere like an empty house filled with the smell of blood, a dark, terrifying basement with a dark, terrifying man. A subway train in New York, a shadowed forest in Romania, a temple in China, a perverse underground church in California, one city after another, one town much like the last. Places always filled with danger and enemies.

It was never anywhere good.


	24. Inanimate Object

They spoke to him.

_She’s not coming back. She’s gone forever. Died a hero’s death, suffered a terrible fate. I’ll hold her safe. Keep her pure, pristine. Keep your heart, all locked up in a little box. Keep your soul, for you can’t have it any longer. She’ll be all right with me. I won’t let anything happen to her, not again. Not like you._

_You failed her. Failed to keep her safe, keep her breathing, keep her alive. You always fail. But I, I will never fail. She’ll rest in my silken arms forever._

He heard every accusing word.


	25. Heat 1

She was good, he had to admit. She spun and kicked, jumped and punched. Imaginative, too. Slayers tended to be one trick ponies – walk in and either win or die. This bitch was sneaky. Creeping around in the ceiling – clever.

Didn’t save her though. Eventually, she had to face him, vampire and girl, the way it was intended. He loved this part, the dance; the fire rising in him, the flames burning in her. The heat got to a fever pitch and he knew he’d won.

Funny how an axe to the back of the head can cool you off.


	26. Heat 2

Fucking Northern Europe. I suppose it’s not so bad, if you can find enough warm blooded people to eat, fur to wear and a nice hot fire to lounge in front of. Trailing along after Drusilla, no matter how hot she looks from the back and how wild she is in bed, does not always lead to a full belly and comfortable digs. But my barmy princess loves the long nights, loves whispering to the stars. If I can ever get her to follow me a bit, I’ll take her to America. There’s bound to be somewhere with some heat.


	27. Addiction 1

He was drawn to her the instant she spoke to him. Dark hair and eyes, like Cecily, but so much more fascinating, so much more real. So sympathetic and understanding. So beautiful and bold.

Then she bit him and bled him and turned him. He woke up to realize he’d be with her forever. No one else had ever offered him that.

He returned her gift with loyalty, with devotion. She was a fire under his skin, the only thing that could keep him warm in the cold of the grave. For years, she was the only thing that mattered.

************************************************************************

Cocaine doesn’t care who snorts it, opium doesn’t care who smokes it. Drusilla doesn’t care who loves her.

He’d spent years lavishing attention on his dark princess, his mad queen. He’d kept her alive in her weakness, protected her in her madness.

But now, from his viewpoint in this cold metal chair, he can see it was the attention she craved, the adoration she was addicted to. He was sure she tried to care for him as he’d cared for her, but she always had her own devilish need to fill.

He was addicted to Drusilla. And so was she.


	28. Addiction 2

Everyone has problems. Back in Los Angeles, she knew more than one kid who got sent to rehab for summer vacation, and few more that really should have been. She turned up her cute little button nose at them – that kind of weakness pulled everyone else down too.

Then she developed her own problem. Her parents assumed drugs and tried the usual summer rehab then escalated to the psych ward, but it wasn’t that kind of problem. It wasn’t a weakness at all, not like the booze and pills she’d seen at parties.

It would kill her just the same.

************************************************************************

Everyone has problems. Everyone has the one thing they crave.

If you are lucky, it’s something simple, like coffee. Nobody cares if you drink coffee all day.

If you are unlucky, it’s something dangerous, like drugs. Strangers look at you and shake their heads, “such a shame, she had so much potential.”

If you are really unlucky, it’s something really dangerous and weird, like magic. Friends look at you and are frightened.

If you are me, it’s the control. The bliss of giving the orders, leading the charge. Family loses their trust, and that door gets shut in my face.


	29. Lullaby 1

They all had the best of intentions. Joyce and Hank doted on their beautiful little blonde daughter. Ira and Sheila filled with pride over their daughter’s brilliance. Even Jessica and Anthony wanted the best for their son.

Back then, before marriages fell apart, before success meant book tours, before booze was its own food group, they tried to be good parents. They taught their kids the important lessons – be kind, share, say please and thank you. And at night, they tucked their babies in bed and sang them soft, sweet songs.

Honestly, they all had the very best of intentions…


	30. Lullaby 2

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

Giles shook his head.

“Didn’t we do this already when the Gentlemen were in Sunnydale?”

Exasperated, Giles said, “Buffy, that was completely different. That was mere sound, this is a specific musical spell.”

“What about Sweet? Hasn’t this been overdone? Are the demons all out of ideas?”

With no response to her whining, Buffy stomped and pouted her way to the nest. With an enormous sigh, she began singing softly.

After the third time through, she pulled her sword with a smile. “At least I get to decapitate them after I put them to sleep.”


	31. Lullaby 3

Tracking deserters from the Senior Partner’s demonic army, Angel and Spike found themselves stuck for the day in a crappy motel in Hamilton. They mostly ignored each other, only interacting to argue. Angel retreated into his book while Spike flipped through the t.v. channels for the eighth time.

The tinny sound of a recorder came from crappy speakers. After the constant flipping, the thought of Spike actually selecting a show drew Angel’s attention. He looked at the screen, to the transfixed vamp, then back to the screen.

“Spike?”

Spike grunted, but didn’t turn.

“What the hell is ‘The Friendly Giant’?”


	32. 24 Hour Convenience Stores

Buffy was on a first-name basis with every night clerk in town, which wasn’t saying a lot. Somehow, most businesses didn’t feel the insurance premiums were worth the extended hours. So Buffy made a point of checking in on those few people stuck working nights.  
It didn’t take long for the night shift to realize that Buffy was protecting them from the things that go grr in the night. And once they realized, it didn’t take long for them to start treating her like one of their own. Free drinks, free snacks – patrolling was a damn fine gig some nights.

*****

“Hey, Millie,” Buffy caroled as she walked into the brightly lit 7-11. “How’s your night been?”  
Her voice sounded dull in the quiet building. Millie’s stout form and cheerful smile were nowhere to be seen.  
“Shit.”  
Millie had been working nights for years. She knew the score, knew her job was risky, but was willing to take that chance. She did everything she could to protect herself though. She wore three crosses and carried holy water. She had both a shotgun and a crossbow behind the counter, and was a good shot with either. She could take care of herself.

*****

Buffy raced to the alley. That tended to be a high mortality location, though Millie was smart enough to leave the garbage for the day shift. The alley was empty with no evidence of a scuffle.  
Buffy went back in through the rear door, checking the shadowy store room for signs of Millie. Nothing.  
As she re-entered the store, she caught a glimpse of sneaker-clad feet lying behind the counter. She rushed to Millie’s side, looking frantically for evidence of whatever struck the older woman down. No injuries of any kind. A low moan sent Buffy racing to call 911.

******

The lights from the emergency vehicles cast dramatic colour across Buffy’s face. She stood out of the way, watching the paramedics prepare Millie for transport. A young police office stood beside her.  
“Mrs. Hoskins is very lucky you came by tonight, Ms. Summers. She didn’t have a chance to call for help; the pain from the heart attack just dropped her where she stood. Thanks to you, she has a good chance of making a full recovery.” The officer smiled down at Buffy. “I’ll bet you never thought you’d be a hero before you got home.”

She just smiled back.


	33. Make Up

Buffy eyed the clock and uttered a nearly inaudible whine. Nearly, but not quite, judging by the glare Mr. Kapstan sent her. Buffy smiled back weakly and focused on the paper in front of her.

Time passed way to fast as Buffy answered what questions she could. Much too soon, Mr. Kapstan cleared his throat. “Time’s up, Miss Summers.” The superior little smirk he sent her was really unnecessary.

Buffy gathered her belongings and set the paper on the teacher’s desk.

Mr. Kapstan couldn’t resist one final dig. “I trust this will be the last make up test this semester?”


	34. Make Up 2

Buffy smoothed the foundation on and then powdered all over for evenness. Before she took up her brushes, she examined herself in the mirror. Making certain there were no bruises or scrapes showing, she moved on to the eyes.

Mascara, liner, shadow. Her eyes popped in her fair skin, wide and bright. Blush. She looked fresh faced and young, attractive and innocent. Necklace, earrings. Just a little bit of sparkle.

As always happened lately, her hand hesitated over choosing the lipstick. As always, she picked up the pink with a sigh. Best to leave the “Bad Girls Red” to Faith.


	35. Sunday 1

Sundays were generally quiet in Sunnydale. It was the one day when this little California town looked like any other. People slept in, got up early for church, puttered around the house or went out for breakfast. They bitched about having to get up early on Monday; they planned the rest of the week. They had family dinners or a quiet day alone. They hurried to finish homework, they enjoyed the last few hours with no responsibilities. They watched TV, played games or read books.

They went to bed early.

In Buffy’s opinion, that was the best thing about Sundays.


	36. Sunday 2

Every week it is the same damn thing. Some new big bad pops up, things go to hell, but eventually it gets taken care of and everything is okay – until next week.

Sometimes it’s easier than others. Sometimes it’s like cutting butter with a hot knife – messy, but easy. Sometimes it’s more like … spreading honey on bread – it’s sticky, gooey and leaves a nasty mess behind, but it gets done eventually. Sometimes it doesn’t get done at all – those weeks are the worst.

If I’d known how hard it was, I never would have started with these damn drabbles.


	37. Office Supplies 1

Perfection is difficult to achieve. When the concept first occurred to her, it sprang fully formed and faultless in her mind. As she tried to verbalize it, tried to formalize it on paper, it faded. Slowly at first then faster and faster as she desperately tried to make it real. Make it something she could cling to during the months of failures, the flawed prototypes, the boys lost in pursuit of her great goal.

She ended up with hundreds of pages filled with schematics, notes, records and ideas.

On paper she could build him. On paper, she called him Adam.


	38. Office Supplies

Riley fills out forms, signs the bottom, and files it away, all with a smile on his face. If an army marches on its stomach, the Initiative thrived on paperwork. Every mission, every experiment, every on-duty moment of every day had to be recorded. Forrest and Graham, the other guys in their unit, groused constantly about the amount of paperwork. “I signed up to save the world, not use every drop of ink in it,” they’d mutter, glowering at the stacks of paper.

Riley just smiled and finished his paperwork for the day. Sometimes, he felt like the perfect soldier.


	39. Fall

She never did figure out how it happened, no matter how many times Lindsey explained the process. Maybe if she remembered anything of the event, even a single word. But she didn’t; at least nothing from outside her own skin. She remembered nausea caused by the sense of falling. Though falling doesn’t make any sense. It should be a sense of rising. You fall from Heaven and rise from Hell – and she knows she wasn’t in Heaven.

After that, everything blended together. She thinks she might have been a little crazy.

Surely, there’s nothing so insane as a resurrected ex-vampire.


	40. Serenity 1

It’s quiet and peaceful in the cemetery tonight. Buffy thinks this is how it is most nights, elsewhere. Places where people aren’t afraid to walk outside at night. 

When she was young, her mother read Anne of Green Gables to her before bed. She remembers Anne and Diana walking through moonlit meadows and along peaceful streams. She knew it was a story, and a story from the past at that, but she always kind of dreamed of a safe place. A place where you could play outside and walk alone to see your best friend.

Instead she got the Hellmouth.


	41. Serenity 2

Mal’s not really a thoughtful man. He always has a plan, it’s true, but he doesn’t spend a lot of time thinking. But for some reason, this fable from Earth-That-Was really got his wheels turning.

He visualizes a girl. At first she looks an awful lot like Kaylee. Then the image thins out and is more like River. Eventually his imagination gets going, and she’s a girl all her own. Kaylee’s perk, River’s violence, Zoe’s knowledge, Inara’s wisdom, and a spark that none of them can match.

In his head he calls her Buffy, like the girl in the story.

************************************************************************

Since he first imagined her, he’s thought about her a lot. She’s gotten clearer in his mind – she’s pale and beautiful now, her blonde hair glinting, always lit by the moon and stars.

He’s dreamed about watching her fight. He’s spent a lot of time imagining her opponents. What do demons look like, anyway? In his fantasies, they all look like Reavers. But instead of running away, she throws herself into the breach, keeping the people safe in their bunks.

She’s a hero. She doesn’t bitch about it, she doesn’t bemoan her fate. She just saves the world. A lot.

************************************************************************

His dreams have changed some now. She still fights, spins, kicks, looks like a gorram dancer even as she kills – slays – but now he’s the thing she fights. They’ve gone after each other with fists and feet, guns blazing, even the blessed sword he used on that bastard who tried to keep Inara. Buffy was much better with a sword than he was; that time she almost had him.

They’ve played all this time. Sometimes he’s on top, sometimes she is, but whoever is winning always eases up at the last minute. He’d say they’re dancing, but that seems obvious.

************************************************************************

He has a bad feeling. He hasn’t dreamed of Buffy in a week, but as his eyes close tonight, he knows he’ll dream of his Slayer.

She’s there.

He’s there.

She has an axe and a feral grin.

This is not good.

He says some stuff he doesn’t understand, in an accent not his own. She mouths off back.

And they fight.

It’s to the death this time. He knows.

Just before the big axe cuts him in two, time stops. She sees him and tears come to her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mal. But this is how it goes.”

Pain.


	42. Thunder/Lightning 1

Storms are always impressive in Southern California. They rage; furious, angry, loud and bright. I think it’s to make up for the perfect weather we get the rest of the time. It’s definitely a change from day after day of gorgeous sunny days.

I like it when it storms. I’ll curl up with a blanket and watch TV. When the power goes out, I’ll sit on the covered porch or at my bedroom window and watch the sky – lightning alternately revealing and hiding roiling clouds.

Thunder, lightning, wind and rain can be overwhelming, but still, it’s more peaceful than slaying.


	43. Thunder/Lightning 2

Giles looked forward to his first Sunnydale rainy day. Englishmen are not suited to perpetual sunshine; neither their constitutions nor their wardrobes are designed for comfort.

He never expected this.

Instead of the much anticipated light summer drizzle cooling the earth and air, he got a terrible, crashing, deafening thunderstorm. Sound and fury, signifying danger, no matter what the Bard had to say.

Oh, it gave him what he’d been craving, all right; a few hours of breeze, of coolness, of fresh air not redolent with citrus and floral.

He just did not expect it to be so unlike home.


	44. Thunder/Lightning 3

There was a time when the violence of the storm frightened him. When he was a child, he’d keep the light on when thunder rumbled.

There was a time when the violence of the storm excited him. When he was Ripper, he’d revel in lightning striking earth with white-hot destruction.

There was a time when the violence of the storm annoyed him. When he was the Watcher, he yearned for the English mists of he’d idealized.

Now the violence of the storm reminds him. Reminds him of all he’s been, all he will be. And he is content to be.


	45. Trust

It’s not that she’s alone.

She’s the Slayer with friends and family. She has Xander and Willow, Giles, and even her Mom, watching her back and keeping her safe. They inspire her, calm her and restore her.

She knows she wouldn’t have gotten this far without them.

But she still throws herself wholehearted into her training. She hones her skills just as she hones her weapons. She practices her kicks, works on her flexibility, lifts weights. She practices swordplay, works on her cardio. She keeps her weapons close.

Because in the end, there is just one thing she trusts – herself.


	46. Country Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not as good as I once was...

The song just pissed him off. He’s doing his best, has been doing his best for years. Sure, he gets the occasional head injury. Yes, he’s had to be rescued more than once. But in the end, he’s still the Watcher. He’s the man with the plan (except when Buffy decides to go with violence). He’s the man with the knowledge, or at least the man with the books.

He rubs his aching knee surreptitiously under the table and cleans his glasses, which doesn’t make his vision any less blurry.

The twanging voice of Toby Keith just kept taunting him.


	47. Rain 1

She really tried in English class. In other classes she relied on Willow. But she really tried in English.

Angel had loved literature.

So she tried. It was a way of hanging on to him. A way to ignore the pain and the guilt. She at least skimmed every book, every play, every poem. She thought about allegories and metaphor. She imagined discussing it with… him.

Then came the discussion of pathetic fallacy. She mutely listened, then wrote it off as a stupid, emotionally manipulative technique.

Surely, if it was real, the sky would cry tears of rain for Angel.


	48. Rain 2

When she first got to Cornwall, she was a mess. She was grieving and guilty and hollow. She rarely spoke, merely did as the Coven requested. In her spare time, she walked the meadows and fields, shoes soaked by wet grass, hair darkened by damp air.

Eventually she started to heal. She spoke, but softly. She didn’t laugh, but small smiles made her lips twitch. She still walked the fields in the rain, relishing the moist, soft mists.

She worried about going back. Would she be forgiven? Would she be wanted?

She didn’t realize she’d miss the rain so much.


	49. Rain 3

They left Los Angeles in a rainstorm.

She remembered it so vividly. Buffy was silently angry (pouting, according to Mom), Mom was forcefully cheerful (so cheerful her knuckles were white on the steering wheel), and she…

She wasn’t really there.

But she remembered Buffy falling asleep against the window. She remembered her mom squinting through the rain and fog.

She remembered watching raindrops roll down her window, guessing which would make it to the bottom first, and almost always being wrong.

But she wasn’t really there.

She checked the internet for that day’s weather. At least it was really raining.


	50. Once Upon a Time 1

Every kid loves fairy tales when they are little.

In the Summers household, Joyce and Hank took turns reading Snow White, Rapunzel and Cinderella to Buffy before bed, then kissed their “little princess” goodnight.

In the Rosenberg household, Sheila and Ira instructed Willow in female subjugation, using The Little Mermaid, The Little Match-Seller and Rumpelstitlskin.

In the Harris household, Jessica and Anthony didn’t tell stories to Xander. Instead, he cuddled up in his babysitter’s lap to listen to Rin Tin Tin, Brer Rabbit and The Brave Tin Soldier.

It was a solid foundation for the strangeness of life in Sunnydale.


	51. Once Upon a Time 2

Buffy wanted to be a princess.

She dressed up in pink tulle and a sparkly crown for Hallowe’en and was offended if anyone called her a fairy.

“Magic isn’t real, but princesses are.”

She grew out of Hallowe’en. But she never grew out of being a princess.

At 12, she dreamed about marrying Prince William.

“Then I could be a real princess.”

At 14, she dreamed about being Captain of the Cheer Squad.

“They’d all look up to me like I’m a princess or something.”

So how did she end up being the one to **save** the damsels in distress?


	52. Once Upon a Time 3

Once upon a time, a girl was chosen.

… a man was sent.

… the girl learned and taught.

… the man taught and learned.

Once upon a time, the girl found two friends.

… a boy who was funny and brave.

… a girl who was smart and brave.

Once upon a time, there was a monster.

… there were a lot of monsters.

Once upon a time, there was a monster who wasn’t a monster.

… the not-a-monster was sad and brave.

Once upon a time, the girl, the man, the friends and the not-a-monster saved the world.

************************************************************************

Now, a lot of girls are chosen.

Now, the girl, the man, the friends and the not-a-monster are far away from each other.

Now, the girl is looking after her sister (and missing her home).

Now, the man is looking after himself (and missing the old days).

Now, the boy is funny and brave and damaged (and missing his love).

Now, the girl is smart and brave and fragile (and missing her love).

Now, the not-a-monster is sad and brave (but is not alone).

Now, there are still a lot of monsters.

But saving the world is somebody else’s job.


	53. Awkward Cupid

A vicious twist and the horrid pink thing that had reached out for Buffy from the dark was nothing more than a pile of vomitous goo.

Willow sat up groggily from where she’d been knocked by a stray tentacle to see Buffy grimacing at the slime on her hands and trying to wipe it off onto the grass.

Xander was still unconscious.

“What was that thing?” Buffy asked Giles, though most of her attention was fixed on a large pink stain on her white blouse.

“Cupid. He was a difficult kill, well done Buffy.”

Willow and Buffy just looked horrified.


	54. Awkward Cupid 2

Aphrodite:

Love isn’t easy in Sunnydale.

The statistics prove it – more divorces than anywhere else in California. More widows and widowers than anywhere in the country.

Things are just wrong in this town.

Vampires and slayers hooking up; big bugs using sex to attract hopeful young men; demons romancing idealistic young women through the internet?

Magic induced police car sex? Sociopath robot beaus? 

Not exactly romantic.

I gave it my best shot. All of my arrows went wild. I assume it’s caused by some undocumented effect of the Hellmouth.

I say we write it off as a bad cause.

Cupid


	55. Red 1

The sign was white.

Or rather, it should have been white. At night, it was a beacon in the darkness. One of the few places that stayed open 24 hours, George’s was Buffy’s favourite place to stop on her way home from patrolling.

Only a few weeks ago, she would have been stopping here with Angel.

She’d have lingered over selecting a chocolate bar, drawing out her time with her boyfriend. Their eyes would meet and Buffy would blush at the depth of emotion she saw.

Instead, she stared up at the red sign, George’s blood dripping onto the pavement.

*********

Like there wasn’t enough red already, the police cars came screaming up, lights spinning frantically.

She was too far away to hear what the cops were saying. It didn’t matter anyway; their horrified and nauseous expressions were far more eloquent than any words could be.

She watched the cops busily work the scene. She thought that the red strobes made them look more like victims than protectors.

It took hours, but eventually they removed George, packed up their evidence and left.

She shivered once or twice, but she stayed until they turned the sign off and the red was gone.

******************

She didn’t sleep anymore.

Sleep left her vulnerable. Not to Angelus himself, but the dreams he’d inspired with his bloody tour of all their old haunts.

He’d left a dead kitten in her locker. He’d left a dismembered puppy in the library.

He’d left bodies in every cemetery in town, in places where they’d once shared passionate kisses.

He’d left Miss Calendar in Giles’s bed.

Her subconscious had plenty of material to create dreams from, yet she still kept seeing the same thing whenever she closed her eyes: the sign at George’s being slowly covered with blood.

So much red.


	56. Red 2

Her skin felt tight. Everything itched, but she didn’t dare touch, knowing that would just make it worse.

She felt cold, but if she put her hand near her skin she could feel heat radiating. She tried to convince her parents to let her stay home from school, but got a lecture combining the importance of education and the value of learning from experience.

Her clothes rubbed painfully, but she kept her long sleeves rolled down. She didn’t need to display the full extent of the damage.

“Whoa.” Xander stared. “You’re all red, Willow.”

Willow’s eyes filled. “Worst sunburn ever.”


	57. The Blahs

The cross-country drive in the bus was horrible. Cramped quarters caused squabbles, and a thick layer of grief lay over all of them. But she was busy, keeping the peace and being a comfort.

The flight across the Atlantic was long. More cramped quarters caused stiff muscles, and the civilians on the plane limited them to mundane conversation. But she was busy, calming Dawn’s fear of flying and watching the movie.

Rome was incredible. History came alive in clichéd glory. A new language to learn, new neighbours to traumatize, something happening every moment.

So why did she feel so… blah?


	58. A Simpler Life 1

Another night in a graveyard, ambling along behind Buffy. Part backup, but mostly target, Xander thinks about simpler days. Playing with Jesse and Willow, then getting too old for “playing” and just “hanging”. Hitting on girls and getting shot down. Living life the way normal teens lived life.

Going to a funeral every couple of weeks. Calling to make sure everyone got home safe and sound. Not knowing what was out there, but knowing that something was.

Maybe simpler wasn’t better after all.

A hairy fist comes out of nowhere and Xander hits the dirt.

Then again, maybe it was.


	59. A Simpler Life 2

Buffy yearned for a simpler life. No more struggles with her biology homework. No more struggles with vamps. Exchange broody, slightly over-protective, dead boyfriend for happy, fun, live-in-the-moment, alive boyfriend. Get along with her mom. Get to see her dad. Perfect body and perfect wardrobe, so no worries about what to wear.

The kind of life she had in L.A.

Then she remembered about reality. There was always homework. There was always danger. Live-in-the-moment boyfriends cheated on you. Mom was always working. Dad was always claiming to be working. And no matter what you wore, someone would cut you down.


	60. A Simpler Life 3

Life was hard.

Not school, school was easy. Just the rest of life was difficult. Making friends, coping with meanies, unrequited crushes, all the basic social stuff that being smart in no way prepared you for.

Surely magic could help simplify her life.

*************

Life was hard.

Danger lurked around every bend. If not vampires, demons. If not demons, humans. Manipulative superiors and power-mad old men tried to control his life. And that was just work. Throw love and personal issues in there and things just got worse.

That’s why he stayed away from magic. It only muddled things up.


	61. Lions/Lambs

He was born a lamb.

A romantic, he loved the sun, pastoral meadows and quiet streams. His were gentle dreams – love, happiness and family. He spoke softly, quietly, treated all people with politeness and respect.

He was reborn a lion.

Suddenly gothic, his life was dark and urban. His were sinister dreams – screams, fear and blood. He moved like a force of nature, leaving terror and death in his wake.

He died a lamb.

He slipped into the Hellmouth, waiting for his moment.

He died a lion.

He charged into the Hellmouth, roaring his challenge to all comers.

He died.


	62. Lions/Lambs 2

They walked purposefully through the cemetery, talking awkwardly. They stayed alert, though it had been pretty quiet in recent weeks.

A sharp scream, quickly silenced, pushed them into a run. They pounded past granite headstones extolling the virtues of people long dead and dying flowers to remember those more recently gone.

They found a woman surrounded by three vampires. They flew into action, punching, kicking, punning and taunting. They each dispatched a vampire, and spent a moment bickering over the last one.

They walked home slowly, tension dispelled as they recapped the battle.

“Like lambs to the slaughter,” Faith laughed.


	63. Unexpected Weather 1

“Take a jacket, Buffy!”

Looking out the window, I see her running to meet her friends. Short skirt, halter top, hair up and a lot of bare skin. No jacket in sight, of course.

I sigh, but stay where I am. A decade ago, she would have let me dress her. Even a few years ago she would have rolled her eyes but obediently picked up a coat.

I know what happens when a girl turns 16. I did the same thing. And all I can do is what my mother did – sit at home and hope for good weather.


	64. Unexpected Weather 2

He thought he was prepared.

He thought he was ready.

He had all the books. He had the training. He could handle a sword, a quarterstaff, and crossbow, and any other medieval weapon you could throw at him.

He thought he knew what was he was doing.

He thought he knew what he was getting into.

The Council was depending on him. They trusted him with their most valuable resource – the Slayer. The entire world depended on him, even if it didn’t know it.

Then he met her.

She was like a flash flood, a freak avalanche.

He was lost.


	65. Birdsong 1

Dawn giggled delightedly at the antics of the yellow canary. It sang, twittered and looked cute. You could tell he was happy, loved and well-fed.

That cat thought so too. He stalked, plotted and schemed, drooling over the fat bird. Every once in while, that cat caught the bird, but it never lasted too long. Something always saved the birdy.

This time it was the potion in Dr. Jekyll’s lab. The tiny, cute yellow canary became a huge, scary yellow monster.

Dawn laughed again as Tweety chased the confused cat.

Buffy watched the cartoon grimly. “I totally sympathize with Sylvester.”


	66. Birdsong 2

It drove her nuts, the constant twittering.

Like she didn’t have enough going on, trying to keep from flunking out, trying to keep her friends from dying, trying to keep the world from ending, she had to deal with a freaking bird singing on her windowsill at the crack of dawn after an extra-long, extra-fighty patrol?

She finally stumbled to the window to close it against the high pitched warbling when something on the ground caught her eye.

She squinted down at the grey blob – the motionless body of a tiny baby robin.

Suddenly, the sorrowful birdsong matched her mood.


	67. Fools 1

Giles tried to do things for himself, tried to remain independent despite his lack of sight. The only results were bruises and broken dishes.

He resigned himself to sitting in an armchair, waiting for Buffy to fix this. Of course, Buffy fixing this relied on her being able to pry herself off Spike’s face.

God, he hoped it was Spike’s face he could hear her kissing wetly.

He felt foolish when he realized that Willow had done this. Her knowledge and power had grown, but her control was non-existent.

If only he’d kept that wisdom when he regained his sight.


	68. Fools 2

Spike threw himself into the fray with a bloodthirsty grin and a bloodcurdling scream.

‘Really, what other words could I use to describe him?’ Buffy thought as she waded in after him, watching his back and taking out her own opponents with crisp efficiency.

There were enough Franx… Fraxan… big red demons here that they probably should have asked for backup, but they knew they could handle it and backup just got in their way.

“Why do you always throw yourself into a fight like that?” Buffy called out.

“I know my angel never fears to tread after her fool.”


	69. Mom

Joyce woke to the smell of burning.

The pancakes were a loss, so they drank coffee and started again. Buffy didn’t burn the second batch and Joyce cooked the sausage. A few years ago that would have been Hank’s job, but they had a new tradition now.

Joyce spent the day reading and relaxing, but after their pizza, Buffy and Joyce curled up to watch movies and eat popcorn until bedtime.

Curling up in her bed, Buffy drifted off to sleep. No sneaking out to patrol tonight; the least she could give her mother was not dying on Mother’s Day.


	70. Payback 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tara

It was just tiny things. Little tricks she’d learned at her mother’s side. She might put too much salt in the casserole or not enough sugar in the pie. She’d shrink their underwear while she did laundry, or accidentally bleach Donny’s favourite shirt into rags. There was never any Benedryl in the house when allergy season around rolled, and there never seemed to be enough beer in the house when Daddy’s friends stopped by.

Just enough to make their lives less than perfect.

She might be a good witch, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t looking for a little payback.


	71. Payback 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anya

There’s no such thing as a little payback.

It’s revenge. And it is supposed to be grand, visible, spectacular, bloody. Revenge is Romeo and Juliet, the Wars of the Roses, Waco. Revenge is meant to be a warning, a reminder to behave. It’s supposed to live on in history, theoretically to keep it from happening again, but the adage of history repeating itself goes double for revenge.

Payback is weak, petty. Payback is easily forgotten, easily forgiven. Payback is a brother destroying a sister’s beloved doll. Revenge is the sister turning the brother into a spider.

Vengeance will live forever.


	72. Dizzy 1

Thinking back makes his head spin. Thinking forward makes his hands shake. So he tries to stay in the present. He makes schedules and enforces them scrupulously. He trains his Slayers and educates them to his standards. He maintains an immaculate appearance and strives for an air of competence.

His schedules are ignored. His Slayers are stronger and know more than he does. His appearance is comical in laid-back California, and his air of competence doesn’t last five minutes.

He tried not to think about past and future failure, about death, about evil.

He tried to keep the dizziness away.


	73. Dizzy 2

Head spinning, stomach clenching, hands shaking, dizzy. Panic.

Hands sweaty, warmth spreading, tongues darting, dizzy. Lust.

Blood rushing, teeth chattering, body freezing, dizzy. Fear.

World fading, smile widening, arms reaching, dizzy. Love.

Shoulders sagging, eyelids drooping, feet dragging, dizzy. Exhaustion.

Eyes snapping, body shaking, fists striking, dizzy. Fury.

Tears falling, throat choking, heart breaking, dizzy. Sorrow.

Scream tearing, back bowing, knees weakening, dizzy. Pain.

Brain spinning, eyes widening, body writhing, dizzy. Bliss.

Fists clenching, voice shouting, brain burning, dizzy. Anger.

Nausea rising, tears welling, heart shattering, dizzy. Loss.

She feels like she has been dizzy for her too short life.


	74. Paternity 1

He wasn’t a perfect father. He was away too much, working while his family enjoyed the wealth he provided. He was too demanding, expecting perfection from his children.

She remembered a time when he was home for several weeks. She and her sisters tried so hard – to be quiet, attractive, talented. It only lasted a few hours before they were loud and boisterous again. Father was appalled at their behaviour and gave them a stern talking to about duty and propriety.

Her new Daddy was so much better, Drusilla thought, screaming and writhing under Angelus’s hard, punishing and lustful hands.


	75. Paternity 2

They were proud of their history. They were proud of their secrets. They were proud of their tools.

They were proud of their Slayers.

Young women. Strong, fast, brave. Obedient, intelligent. The perfect weapons to combat evil. Their femininity is a lure. Their power is an enticement. Their battles are legendary. Their deaths are tragic.

Their deaths are necessary.

No one could keep up the required pace forever. No one can maintain the strength of will, strength of mind or strength of body. Each Slayer to fall is mother to the next Slayer chosen.

And the Council is their father.


	76. Paternity 3

He was a good father. He provided for his family, defended against evil.

He was a loving father. He held his children closely, told them fairy stories, played dolls and soldiers.

He was a caring father. He tucked his children in to bed, convinced them no monsters would come as long as he was there.

The monsters came and he wasn’t there.

He vowed he wouldn’t make these mistakes with Stephen. This child would learn to provide for and defend himself. This child would know the monsters would come, and that Father might not be there.

This child would live.


	77. Neighbours

Sunnydale is a town of walls, and Buffy knows them all.

Buildings that cower together, protecting each other from the night. Alleys that end in chain links or solid brick, turning them into box canyon traps. Underground labyrinths that lead to safety or destruction.

Sunnydale’s walls are deceptive. Useful and dangerous. Buffy has hidden behind them to spy out secret plans and she’s found bodies tucked into out of the way corners.

Walking the streets after a long patrol, faint light showing behind curtained windows, she thinks the walls are necessary.

After all, they say good fences make good neighbours.


	78. Cats/Kittens 1

Every time she closed her eyes, flashes of the past, of the sorrow and grief she was trying to outrun lit up the darkness. His violence, his hate. His love, his confusion.

His pain. Her pain.

Instead, she walked. She walked dark, grimy streets. She walked in deserted buildings, abandoned neighbourhoods.

It was in one of the derelict buildings that she found them. Thin and dirty, the cat stood tall, back arched and hissing at the interloper. The kittens tried to follow their mother’s example.

It was their bravery that did it. Buffy sat on the dirty floor and cried.


	79. Cats/Kittens 2

He watched her sleep.

He’d started off fast, using tongue, lips. She shivered in his arms; once, twice. Moaned. He’d slowed down after that – brought the tenderness he thought she needed, he knew he needed. By the time it was over, they were both purring.

She stretched in her sleep, like a cat.

She watched him sleep.

They were both scared. The next day could bring destruction or victory, but either way it was an unknown. They curled together, finally able to comfort each other. Their soft voices mingled into a gentle purr.

He curled into himself, like a cat.


	80. Writing

He felt foolish standing in the checkout line surrounded by hyperactive children and harried mothers.

Even the store itself was intimidating. Parking spots were reserved for everyone except him. The racket was incredible and children ran everywhere, paying no attention to anything in their path. He wondered how their parents could keep an eye on their progeny, until he realized that the parents didn’t care about their children’s antics and bad behaviour.

Despite the unpleasant ambiance, Giles persevered. Leaving Toys ‘R’ Us with his bag clutched tight, he was satisfied. Inspiration would never catch him unprepared in the shower again.


	81. Broken 1

“You what!”

Dawn pouted at Willow’s scandalized tone.

“I needed to borrow… something. I just wanted to know what was inside! It’s not my fault it’s so fragile.”

Willow gaped at the teen, struggling for words. Tara gently remonstrated with Dawn. “It wasn’t yours to touch. And it’s something… pretty important.”

“Save the world important?”

“More important than that!” Willow choked out.

Tara quieted Willow with a look. “Not exactly save the world important. It’s kind of personal. But it’s important to Buffy, so you should apologize.”

“Do you think I should replace it for her?” Dawn asked meekly.

“No!”


	82. Broken 2

She moved silently.

She didn’t notice the shapes moving into position against the shadowed rocks.

She got almost to their den before they surrounded her. Dropping out of the trees she’d thought of as cover, she was surrounded in an instant. No time to run; she wouldn’t have anyway. That was not a maneuver she’d been trained in.

She struck out at them with feet and fists. They snarled; she growled back. It was violent and animal and beautiful. Her enemies dissolved to dust, blood seeped from her wounds. It was close - she might have won.

Her blade snapped.


	83. Broken 3

He’d been to Kenya once.

They toured old villages, savannah and mountains. In one hidden valley, the brown grasses contrasted against tall white stones. He’d wondered aloud what it was.

His guide explained it was elephant rib bones, curved like cages. The old elephants all came here to die.

That’s what this mess reminded him of. The broken timbers of the old building reached towards the sky, smoking ruins reminding him of cool morning mists. It was beautiful, in a devastating way.

Unseen under the fireman’s protective boots, a sooty and singed paper ripped and tore. ‘Quentin Travers, Watcher’s Council.”


	84. Broken 4

“So you see, it’s all a mistake. Nothing to worry about. Just … sister stuff.”

“Dead sister stuff,” Xander muttered. Buffy tightened her grip. He wasn’t forgiven for thinking she was Faith.

“Well, yes. I can see this is personal. However, I’ve been brought in on… that is, Dawn did come to me…” Giles took off his glasses. It was much easier to talk to Buffy when she was a fuzzy blonde blob. “It’s just, with your mother ill, I wondered… is it time to have The Talk with Dawn?”

Buffy and Xander stared in horror.

“Not that I’m volunteering!”


	85. Puppet 1

“Now that is bad hair. Really, slaying you will make the world a prettier place.” Buffy faked a kick to draw out her colourful opponent, hoping to gauge it’s strengths and weaknesses. It was a wise tactic; the thing moved faster than expected. Unfortunately, it hadn’t given consideration to the full effects of dyeing it’s entire body all the colours of the Gay Pride parade – Buffy tracked it easily and threw a spin-hook at it’s head, temporarily stunning it. It roared and flailed, but Buffy was faster – a blade flashed and it collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.


	86. Puppet 2

Buffy was in control. She is the Slayer; all the things that go bump in the night fear her name.

Giles was in control. He’s the Watcher; the strongest, most important girl in the world looks to him for direction and guidance.

Travers was in control. He’s the head of the Council of Watchers; the most educated and intelligent men and women in the world follow his instructions.

The Powers that Be are in control. They are beyond human, demon, Slayer, Watcher and Council understanding. They are ignored while the world turns around them.

But they are pulling the strings.


	87. Insomnia 1

Buffy’s not a voyeur. 

Every night she makes her way home past darkened houses. She walks past manicured yards, past riotous flower gardens, past frilly kitchen curtains and past tricycles left on the sidewalks.

She doesn’t stop for them. They please her – normal life always does – but she doesn’t stop to examine them. 

Every night she stops at the house with the lights on. She stands in the shadows and watches the old man putter in his kitchen, watch TV, read the paper. She wonders what is keeping him up at night.

She has a sacred calling. What’s his excuse?


	88. Insomnia 2

She paces empty streets, darting from streetlight to streetlight, hugging the shadows. Night is an old friend now. She remembers fighting against bedtime, arguing for just another few minutes, though she struggled to keep her eyes open. Night, the dark; they were enemies back then.

Now night is safety. She stands sentry over silent streets and any she finds are enemies. She fights – she slays. There is no grey in the night, only the black and white of Slayer and vampire. She doesn’t struggle with indecision or sorrow or pain in the night.

Yes, night is an old friend now.


	89. Late 1

She’s late for school. Usually her mom wakes her up. Joyce opens the blinds and picks up clothes from the floor while chattering about the weather, her work and their plans for the evening. When Buffy is finally awake enough to respond, she gets showered and dressed then goes and has breakfast with her dad.

But last night Buffy sat at the top of the stairs until 1 am while her parents hissed cruel words at each other. 

When Buffy wakes up, Joyce is still in the master bedroom with the door closed, and Hank has already left for work.


	90. Late 2

She’s late for her date. Usually she starts getting ready early. She has a shower and a little snack then she agonizes over what to wear, the phone pressed to her ear as she discusses her wardrobe with friends. They squeal over the cuteness of her date and how soft his hair is and the great car he got for his birthday.

But today she has to watch Dawn while Joyce and Hank meet with the lawyers and the real estate agents.

When Buffy comes downstairs, her date is sitting awkwardly on the couch and sneaking glances at the clock.


	91. Late 3

She’s late for patrol. Usually she leaves as soon as it’s dark. She has dinner with her mom and sister, watches some TV and tries to do her homework. She dresses to kill and slides weapons in various pockets, feeling naked until she’s armed.

But today she had a fight with her mom and they hissed cruel words at each other while Dawn sat crying on the stairs.

When Buffy arrives, the cemetery is awash in blood, pain and death.

Too late: Willow’s blood drips.  
Too late: Xander’s throat gapes.  
Too late: Giles’s body cools.  
Too late: Angel’s dust floats.


	92. Memorial 1

“You see a lot when you’re around a hundred-odd years,” Spike said.

“And those were some very odd years, I bet.”

“Xander.” The three girls spoke together. Not angry, just more interested in Spike’s stories than Xander’s quips.

“Thing is, you don’t care. It’s all just happening around you. Then you get a chip or a soul or grow some compassion or whatever, and you have... regrets, I s’pose.”

“Regrets?” Willow asked.

“It’s like I didn’t feel it right the first time.” Spike paused. “Realize now there was more to it than being jealous that some soldier’s killed more’n me.”


	93. Memorial 2

She didn’t like to think about it much.

When she was asked, she put it down to tragedy, to bad luck, to a breakdown in morality.

When she was asked, she said it was a car accident, a heart attack, a drive by shooting.

She never told them what she really saw. She never told them about the golden eyes, the vicious laughter, or the grasping hands.

She never told them about the teeth.

She never told them that she ran away and left him in the alley to die.

But then, she didn’t like to think about it much.


	94. Elvis Songs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel - Heartbreak Hotel

Los Angeles. City of Angels.

What a stupid name.

It had seemed like a sign when he first arrived. This was where he was supposed to be, where he could do the most good.

Now he stood in a dark alley in a cold rain. He stood with his friends and allies. They stood together, trying to ignore the gaps in the line where the fallen had stood. They moved shoulder to shoulder, back to the wall.

They tried to ignore the dozens... hundreds... thousands... of roaring demons.

He put his hand down, touching the rough brick, remembering, saying goodbye.


	95. Elvis Songs 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gunn - All I Needed was the Rain

He can’t tell if he’s cold because of the rain or because he’s dying.

After the upgrade, he’d relaxed. He’d fight his battles in the boardroom and the courtroom instead of alleys and sewers. He’d stopped worrying about dying with an axe in his hands, blood in his mouth.

He should have realized.

As a kid, he’d always been afraid he’d go down in a hail of bullets. After finding out there were worse things than gangs, his worry had grown teeth and claws.

Now that his fears were coming true, it wasn’t all that bad. Except for the rain.


	96. Elvis Songs 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Illyria - Song of the Shrimps (Never heard of this song, but I couldn't resist!)

She’s a God.

She will never admit to being less, despite her weakness in this world.

She has parted the veil, seen this world and the next. And the one after that.

She understands more than these fools can even see, much less comprehend.

She should rule. Failing that, she should never have returned. But that’s what happens when details are put in the hands of gibbering idiots.

And yet.

And yet, she stands in the rain (oceans), feeling the pain (blood on her hands), watching her allies (army), facing the hordes (her followers), desiring...

Life?

Death?

War?

Peace?

Vengeance.


	97. Elvis Songs 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike - Blue Eyes Crying in the Ra

He hated to fight in the rain, that’s all.

Rain made the footing uncertain, made his coat uncomfortable and hard to move in. Dripped in his eyes, washed the blood on his face into his eyes and made it hard to see.

That’s all.

Standing in an alley, facing another fight. The last fight, probably, but he’d said that before. This is what he lived for.

That’s all.

Saying goodbye to the world, facing up to his wrongs, his regrets, the people he’d lost and found and lost again.

That’s all.

Nothing to do with the tears in his eyes.


	98. Elvis Songs 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy - Adam and Evil

She kept fighting him and losing. It was starting to mess with her mind.

He was an uncontrollable sociopath. He killed without cause, without warning, without hesitation. His purpose was evil.

His creation...

He’d been born human. He’d been loyal and true and patriotic. He’d been Riley, or something... someone so similar as to be indistinguishable.

He’d been manipulated and used and abused. By other humans.

He had inhuman bits, inhuman parts, inhumanity forced into him. No one else hesitated in their desire to take him out.

But she was starting to wonder – what if she was supposed to lose?


	99. Elvis Songs 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willow - And the Grass Won’t Pay No Mind

It was quiet.

She’d never thought of the cemetery as quiet before, but then, she’d never been here in daylight before.

She’d never been here alone before.

It was peaceful.

In her experience, the cemetery was anything but peaceful, despite it’s restful name. Of course, she generally came looking for a fight.

She’d never come looking for the past.

It was serene.

The quiet, peaceful, serenity made her want to scream. Made her want to throw things, hurt things, kill things. Destroy the world. Forget her pain.

She sat still and pulled at the grass, staring up at the sky.


	100. Elvis Songs 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xander - Help Me Make it Through the Night

How to get from oblivious to obsessive in one (several) short step:

Meet (fall at her feet) hot girl.

Follow (follow, not stalk) hot girl.

Hear things (eavesdroppers never hear anything good) that make no sense.

Ignore screaming sense of self-preservation and follow (still not stalking) hot girl.

See things (blinders are definitely off) that make no sense.

Believe (six impossible things before breakfast) the unbelievable.

Kill thing (formerly known as best friend).

Take deep breath. Another. Okay. Adjust worldview.

And that’s how you end up clutching a stake in a dark graveyard, praying to make it through the night.


	101. Elvis Songs 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giles – You’ll Never Walk Alone

She walked through the doors, impossibly young, incredibly blunt, innocent.

Alone.

His heart broke.

He’d been warned about this; about becoming emotionally attached, that it must be avoided at all cost. He’d always assumed it was because some Watcher somewhere had engaged in a little... impropriety. He’d always been disgusted by the thought.

One girl in all the world took on a new meaning. Even as he recited the words, a part of his brain shuddered at the thought of what faced her. What she’d already faced.

Alone.

She never heard him, but he swore she’d never walk alone again.


	102. Elvis Songs 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giles – I Slipped I Stumbled I Fell

“You okay?”

“Fine.” A cool cloth; he bit back a grateful sigh.

“You look kind of white. It’s not a good colour on you.”

“It’s a touch of a headache.” The nausea was rising; no sleep for 24 hours. Again.

The lights were killing him, the noise of her searching through his cupboard would drive him to suicide. The little white pills she held out to him weren’t going to cut it.

“Giles, what happened?”

“I slipped, I stumbled, I fell.” I hit my head on a grave marker.

“You should have let me tell you your shoes were untied.”


	103. Elvis Songs 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith – Only the Strong Survive

She was proud.

She might not measure up to Little Miss Sunshine State’s version of accomplishment, but it was impressive for her.

She’d never expected to leave Boston. She’d get kicked out of school or get knocked up and have to drop out. She’d get trapped in a dead end job to keep food on the table, fall into booze or drugs. She expected to turn into her mother.

And here she was. On the other side of the country, with enough strength and power to get what she needed. With enough youth and hotness to get what she wanted.


	104. Elvis Songs 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith – Meanest Girl in Town

Nothing could touch her, nothing could hurt her.

She didn’t mind getting bruised, didn’t mind getting cut. It couldn’t really break her.

She was cold.

But he... he was warm. Soft. Gentle eyes, floppy hair, compassion dripping from every pore. Along with the lust, of course.

She could feel the ice melting, his warmth seeping into her. So she ignored the eyes, the hair, the compassion. Focused on the lust.

Turned warm to hot. Turned soft to hard. Made his eyes roll back in his head, plastered his hair to his scalp.

Tried to choke the compassion out of him.


	105. Leftover

Angelus called it “breaking in the boy.”

Darla called it “teaching him the way things are done around here.”

Drusilla called it “freeing the fairies,” but, then, Drusilla was mad.

Angelus broke bones and teeth.

Darla taught him to crawl on his knees and beg.

Drusilla freed him from Angelus and Darla for a time, but that was only because they didn’t want to deal with her caterwauling.

They forced him down and tied him up. Battered and shattered him. Taught him everything he needed to know.

And when they were finished, all that was left of William was Spike.


	106. Leftover 2

Buffy slayed, Willow witched, Giles watched.

Xander batted cleanup.

He did all those things that got forgotten in a panic. Brought the drinks and donuts. Stocked the first aid kit. Returned books to the shelves when the research was through. Sharpened the dull things, like knives, swords, axes and wits. He even made sure the stove was turned off so there would still be a house after the apocalypse.

He talked a good game, got in his hits where he could, took his lumps when he had to.

But mostly, he took care of the details that were left over.


	107. Leftover 3

She didn’t die immediately.

She screamed and fell, but no one came running to her aid. She understood. It was war down there. No time for grieving. She lay where she dropped and watched the fight. It was that or watch the blood leak out the holes in her body.

She saw the turning of the tide; Buffy standing back up, Spike channeling the power and a touching, if rather melodramatic, goodbye.

She lasted long enough to see the roof collapse and the blue sky above. Then all that was left over was the corpse of a scared little girl.


	108. Leftover 4

In her language, there were no words for what she was feeling.

Later, she would know the words, know the words in every language of every Slayer to come, but for now, she had no words.

Only the feelings.

She was free, but they captured her. She was strong, but they weakened her. She was a girl, but they turned her into something else.

Something less?

She screamed her pain as the spell took effect. She screamed her fear as something else took control of her body and mind. When the screaming stopped there was nothing left but the Slayer.


	109. Making Preparation 1

The dress was white.

It hung on the back of the door, protected by the plastic garment bag.

It was innocence. It was the things she wished she was, but knew she’d never be. It was the future she’d never see.

She put it on and went to face her fate.

~

The dress is white.

It hangs on the back of the door, billowing in the gentle breeze.

It is promises. It is the things she’d dreamed of, but feared she’d never have. It is the future she’d thought lost.

She puts it on and goes to meet her bridegroom.


	110. Making Preparation 2

There are some things you can never prepare for.

It doesn’t matter how old you are. It doesn’t matter that you’ve already buried four grandparents, innumerable aunts and uncles, several friends, a father and a lover. It doesn’t matter that you watched other young girls go into battle and never return. It doesn’t matter that you’ve watched other people grieve. It doesn’t matter that you’ve steeled yourself for this. It doesn’t matter that you’ve imagined every possible way you could lose her. It doesn’t matter that you’ve been warned.

It doesn’t matter that it was only a matter of time.


	111. Making Preparation 3

He knew how to make a fire without a match.

He knew how to make saltwater fresh.

He knew how to tie a half-hitch, a granny and a bowline.

He knew how to read a compass and a map.

He knew how to set up a tent and a snare.

He knew how long it took to make a can of beans explode in the fire.

He knew how to whittle and how to recognize animal tracks.

And as of now, he knew how much pressure it took to get a pointy piece of wood through your best friend’s chest.


	112. Stress 1

“I’ve got it!” Xander shouted gleefully. He tossed the book into the center of the table where they could all see it, not noticing Giles’s grimace as he did so.

Everyone crowded around, Cordelia leaning over Xander’s shoulder to see better. Xander took advantage of the moment to peek down her top.

“Oh, eww,” Cordelia said. “That’s definitely the thing that chased me last night.”

“Way to go, Xander,” Willow said, gently setting her own book safely aside.

“It’s a Kros-gan? Xros-gain? Cross-gany?” Buffy puzzled out.

“Z’rose gene,” Giles corrected. “You need to put the stress on the second syllable.”


	113. Stress 2

Absolutely everything had gone wrong today. She’d slept in and missed both breakfast and her ride. She’d gotten a D on last week’s essay, and totally forgotten today’s test. She’d spilled grape soda on her khaki’s at lunch. Worst of all, she’d spotted Kyle making out with Tiffany.

She’d almost made it home when she heard the sound of fists on flesh. She peeked around the corner and watched a tiny blonde girl fighting ... something. The blonde took a blow to the face, but kept kicking until the thing stopped moving.

At least her day was better than that.


	114. Light 1

“I was the one who said that.”

“What? You said ‘Let there be light’?”

“Yeah. Totally me.”

“You... are not that witty.”

“And you think you are so smart?”

“Smarter than you.”

“I can tell you exactly what happened. Remember how dark it was? I said ‘Let there be light’ and there was light. And then I told a guy how cool it was, and he wrote it down. He made up the rest of the stuff though.”

“You are so full of it.”

And as the Powers That Be bickered, a young girl fought to keep evil at bay.


	115. Light 2

She lay on the grass, staring up at the sky. The stars faded one by one, the sky lightening to pre-dawn gray. She’d always loved watching the sun rise. At first, it was about the coolness of staying up all night, partying with her friends. After she was called, sunrise took on a new meaning. Every dawn meant she’d lived through another battle.

It seemed to take forever, but the sun eventually rose. Another day finally came. Buffy lay in the pool of blood and sighed in relief, her eyes sliding closed and her breath coming in one last gasp.


	116. Night Before 1

She stretches luxuriously, eyes still closed. The usual twinges put a moue of discomfort on her lips, but the unfamiliar ache softens it to a shy smile. Her eyes flutter open; she hopes it’s flattering, imagining him watching her breath.

Sunlight blinds her and confusion creases her forehead. Prickles of unease make her shiver and she draws the sheet up protectively.

She dresses quickly, uncomfortable with her nudity despite the empty room. She waits for hours, but finally gives up and returns home still wary and anxious.

By evening, shame colours her memory of the morning after the night before.


	117. Night Before 2

Running water washes the blood off her hands. Her stained and sticky clothing is in a corner. She wants to shower, but can’t bring herself to turn the taps until her hands are clean.

The red of the blood has been replaced with the pink of skin under too-hot water. She stands there despite the pain. Finally when the water runs cold she steps out, rubbing the rough towel against her skin.

In the mirror her eyes are dull and lifeless and her usual mobile mouth is utterly still.

Fear is all she feels the morning after the night before.


	118. Night Before 3

She’s naked and she’s talking. He should listen, but all he can process is that she’s naked. High, firm breasts, slim figure and skin that looks so soft. He wants to touch it, see if she’s as soft as she looks, but he’s frozen.

He finally responds. He doesn’t know how he managed it; he must have gained more than courage at Buffy’s side. There’s some serious fortitude involved with talking and listening and looking all together.

Oh god. She is as soft as she looks.

It’s not really a surprise that he’s confused the morning after the night before.


	119. Night Before 4

She doesn’t feel anything. Well, there is rage; is that a feeling? Is vengeance a feeling? She thinks rage is a feeling. Vengeance is an action, and she’s concentrating on actions now.

She can’t see herself, but she wouldn’t care. The eyes and veins wouldn’t bother her. She’s too busy excelling at revenge the way she excels at everything she attempts.

The flayed body doesn’t stop her. The damage she does to her friends and the shop doesn’t stop her. The pained voice that won’t stop talking... he stops her.

The grief swamps her the morning after the night before.


	120. Fire 1

It burned.

Smoke and heat filled the air. The sirens conflicted with the ringing in her ears from the explosion. She sat and watched the fire, watched the emergency personnel scurry around like they were saving the world.

It burned.

She’d been in pain since the moment in Giles’s library. It started in her heart, spread to her throat, making it hard to take a breath. It spread to her stomach, making it hard to stand up straight. All she could do was sit and watch the fire, hoping the heat would stop this pain, melt this cold.

It burned.


	121. Fire 2

He loved everything about her.

Her mind.

She was smart and brave, scientific and magical. She was a mass of contradictions, but they all made sense. 

Her humour.

She was funny and sweet, crazy and cheerful. Her smile always made him smile, her words always made him laugh.

Her beauty.

Oh, dear God, her beauty.

He was the guy who saw below the surface. He took everything in stride – vampires, demons, werewolves. He spent time with people who inspired him mentally, with people who got him.

But every time that fiery red hair came into view, he caught his breath.


	122. Disobedience

Her desire for approval was clear on her face. She yearned for his praise, his admiration and his attention. Angelus ground his teeth in annoyance. She’d taught him they were beholden to no one, slave to nothing, and yet here she was, clinging and fawning over him, obedient to his every whim.

Obey him! Obey this hairless monster, beaked and wrinkled? Obey this sewer-dwelling fop with the grandiose plans that would take all the fun out of living forever?

Angelus had never easily fallen in with the plans of others, and he set out to prove his disobedience once again.


	123. Saints 1

"History could be way more interesting."

"What was that?" Giles asked.

"Instead of talking about economics, law and dates all the time, they should teach us about real people," Buffy explained. "Right now we’re learning about this war between the French and the English. But I found a book and it’s all the same stuff plus a story about a girl who was a general."

"Ahh, Saint Joan," Giles said.

"She was a saint too?"

"Well, after she was burned at the stake..."

Buffy silently set the book aside. Suddenly she was afraid to learn the ending to this story.


	124. Saints 2

It took a lot of phone calls to get her in.

Eventually Giles managed it, but he could only do so much. She paced the halls surrounded by priests and soldiers, frustrated and certain she’d never find her target with the entourage.

It worked out though. When the demon dropped down from the ceiling and she run it though with a pike, the guards were gratifyingly impressed. When the demon melted into a puddle of green.. stuff, the priests were suddenly appreciative.

"I’m still never slaying at the Vatican again, Giles. Some of those paintings and statues are just creepy."


	125. Saints 3

She’d arrived on soundless feet, on a moonless night. Only the wind could have given her away, carrying her scent to her enemy. Only the wind could have, only the wind did.

The battle was brief but heated. She was taken by surprise, but not unprepared. She (and they) used every advantage. They (and she) exploited every weakness. She had blade and bow on her side; they had teeth and claws. She had everything to live for, they had everything to lose. It came down to numbers, in the end. They were many and she…

She was just one girl.

+++

He found her the next morning. The dew had diluted the blood, but nothing could beautify her body, mutilated and crucified. 

He carried her back and told his story. Not the story, just a story. Not that he’d sent her against of evil, not that he’d waited safe (but concerned) inside while she fought and died. No, not that story. 

She became beauty, goodness and innocence. They prayed for her, then they prayed to her. They claimed she performed miracles (but ignored the miracles she’d actually performed) and built a statue.

Saint, Slayer. It’s all the same in the end.


	126. China 1

Anya looked anxiously out the window of the shop again. It was the fifth time in the last 30 minutes and the seventh time since they'd arrived an hour ago. Xander was starting to get worried. Surely she'd have told him if there were some new big bad in town?

The bell over the door jangled. Xander watched in confusion as Anya bowed, accepted some money and the bell signaled the man's departure.

"I love Chinese New Year! Any holiday that requires people settle their debts is a good one. Do you think Giles would open an outlet in Beijing?"


	127. China 2

She had a china doll when she was a girl. She'd named the doll Jolene and dressed her so they matched.

When she no longer played with dolls, Jolene had a spot on her shelf. She still changed her clothes occasionally, to keep them from fading.

Later still she hid a stake and a crucifix behind Jolene. She still changed Jolene's clothes, she didn't want her mom to notice.

She didn't know how he knew. The fish were obvious, but she kept finding pieces of Jolene for weeks. Xander called it Angel's instinct for causing pain, and let her cry.


	128. China 3

He only used it once a year, on her birthday. It sat at the back of the cupboard otherwise, behind his everyday mugs and plates.

It was part of a set. He'd taken it from the box in the attic just before he left for California. He'd gone up for luggage and come down with this.

It was his mother's teacup. Fine bone china, perfect except for a chip on the rim. That's how he knew it was hers.

He filled the cup halfway. He topped it up with gin, just as she'd always done. 

"Happy returns, Mother," Wesley said.


	129. China 4

There was more than one Chinese slayer. Most died young; younger than usual for slayers, that is. The Council found it difficult to get inside China's borders to properly train and guide them, not that training or guidance would prolong their lives much anyway. It just meant that they were nameless, nothing but footnotes in the Watcher's Diaries: Slayer called in Shanghai. Or Beijing, or Xianggang. Lasted eight days. Or three weeks, or six months. They all lived different lives, took different paths, fought different battles and died different deaths. But there was no one around to record that either.


	130. Scouts 1

All he wanted was to play basketball. He enjoyed it and he was good at it. In fact he was great at it. They were going to the state championship this year thanks to him.

The game was excellent. He shone on the court and he knew there were scouts in the crowd. His chance to get out.

There was some guy in a suit waiting for him outside the dressing room. The guy handed him a card.

"I can't promise anything, but if you live past graduation, I'll see what I can do."

Easier said than done in Sunnydale.


	131. Scouts 2

He crept along, taking care where he stepped. Something wasn't right. There was a feeling of heaviness, of something watching and waiting. He couldn't understand it; the natives had fled already, warned by the clattering of armour.

There was no explanation for this feeling of danger. Night birds called in the trees and he could see animal tracks. The area was lush and green, with plenty of fresh water. He wanted to run away.

He turned to return to camp, planning to tell the Captain that the water source was polluted. Yellow eyes glowed, and he never got the chance.

+++

The air was thick and humid. People scurried, focused on themselves.

His lip curled in a sneer at their obliviousness. This was the Hellmouth; he'd been able to sense it an hour away. Ignorance truly is bliss, he thought, watching two laughing children run by.

Well, they could parade around like so much meat, but he knew how to defend himself. He kept a careful eye on his watch as he investigated the school; no way he'd be caught out after sunset.

He was ready to report to the Council. A low laugh sounded, and he never got the chance.


	132. Waves 1

He’d heard the sailors say that this crossing had been extremely smooth, and had seen some of them making the sign of the cross or spitting over the side to ward off ill luck.

It hadn’t worked.

The storm had swept up in the night. He hadn’t been asleep, but even if he had, the sudden whine of wind in the wires and the crashing waves would have told him what was happening.

The humanity below had driven him on deck. But the sun above and the business of staying afloat kept him to shadows.

As always, Angel hovered between.


	133. Waves 2

He used to love sailing stories. Robinson Crusoe, Treasure Island and Captains Courageous sat on his dresser. He dreamed about running away to sea and coming back with amazing stories to wow his friends.

When he was twelve, he was invited to a birthday party. It was on a sailboat, and he couldn’t wait to show off his knowledge of sailing. But while the rest of the kids ran around the boat, laughing and eating cake, Xander tried to puke subtly. He thought he’d done okay until he overheard his friend’s dad say “that Harris kid’ll never make a sailor!”


	134. Angels and/or Demons 1

He’s always had a bit of the devil in him. The eldest, the only son – when he’d been younger, his pranks and disobedience were merely mischievousness and had garnered him gentle scoldings that hid his mother’s fond smiles and boys-will-be-boys tousled hair from his father’s hand.

But now his behaviour was beyond the pale. His mother’s secret smiles were drowned by tears; his father’s gentle hand gone hard.

He’d always played with the maids; but now he played adult games. He’d always gorged himself; but now instead of his mother’s pies it was ale.

Nothing had changed but his parents.


	135. Angels and/or Demons 2

He’s always had the face of an angel. As a child it had gotten him extra sweets, extra privileges and out of trouble. As an adult it had gotten him credit from shopkeepers and barmen and countless girls on their backs.

But his appearance had never brought him more advantages than when Darla spotted him. He’d seen her, of course; even in the midst of a fistfight he’d noticed the blonde in the expensive silk dress.

His pretty face caught her eye and she’d rewarded him. Licking the blood from his full, lush lips, he resolved to thank her again.


	136. Fandom 1

“Where’re Wes and Fred headed?” Gunn asked, his eyes not leaving the slim figures until they’d passed beyond his view.

“Jeez, lighten up,” Cordelia said. “Wesley heard that a demon was going to try and infiltrate the Trek Convention downtown. He needed someone to stake it out with him.”

Angel slapped Gunn on the shoulder as he and Cordy left. “It’s not like any of us could pass as geeks.”

Gunn kept staring at where Wes and Fred had disappeared. He couldn’t help feeling that watching them together today was just a taste of what he’d see in the future.


	137. Fandom 2

Everybody’s got their something.

Andrew parked in front of the television nightly.

Xander was in Africa, but they kept him in comic books.

Kennedy was introducing Willow to all the heroines of lesbian culture.

Dawn was never going to get over her Adam Brody worship.

Each of the girls seemed to have a different teen heartthrob tacked on their bedroom wall, and they argued the finer points of each guy at the top of their lungs.

Even Giles listened to music.

Buffy only had her memories. Spike’s smile, his tenderness, even his sarcasm and violence.

Yeah, everybody’s got their something.


	138. Camp

Everyone says the friends you make at camp last forever.

So she tested it.

She wrote a letter to Mellie from the top bunk. She called Natasha and Brittany who’d been in her cabin three years running. She even called the camp itself, pretending she’d lost her group photo in a fire.

Melly wrote back, begging for an email address so they could keep in touch. She was scolded for the huge phone bill caused by chatting to the other three. The new picture showed her gap-toothed grin framed by lopsided braids.

Her history was intact for everyone but herself.


	139. Rock and Roll

The demon moved faster than anything that size had a right to. That was the problem with the supernatural; the rules of physics didn’t seem to apply.

Even though his ears were still ringing, Spike jumped back to his feet after the open-handed “slap” that dropped him flat on his ass. His blurred vision cleared just enough to see Buffy take out the last demon with a perfectly executed decapitation.

“I can’t believe you let it knock you down, Spike.”

“And how’d you avoid that mean right hook, pet?”

“Just like rock and roll – it only had the three moves.”


	140. Leaves

Don’t blink.

Her eyes scanned the shadows, looking desperately for his strong form and peaceful, pain-filled eyes. He said he’d be gone, but she could sense him somewhere nearby. She needed just one last sight of him, one last wordless glance that assured him of her love, assured her of his grief.

Don’t blink.

Her eyes were stinging from the smoke when she finally saw him. He appeared out of nowhere, just like the first time she’d met him. The tears swimming in her eyes made everything look soft and romantic, despite the sorrow of their unspoken goodbyes.

She blinked.


	141. Leaf

“Don’t you know anything, Slayer? The nights grow longer, and night is our time.”

“Night is your time… to die.”

“Weak, girl. Just like you – hardly worth my time.”

“Son of a bitch!”

“Lost your footing, little girl? Wet leaves and the smell of death; should have hidden away at home and left the dark for us. Still, you’ll leave a lovely corpse all white and bloodless. You’ll lie here, a boneless sprawl surrounded by vivid leaves to match the seeping wound at your throat.”

“Those wet leaves will get you every time – sorry you won’t leave a pretty corpse.”


	142. Left

It wasn’t really that she was a bad driver. So she had a hard time maintaining a constant speed; she was always either right on someone’s bumper or miles behind. The slightest distraction could make her swerve all over and taking passengers was out of the question, since their nerves just made her panic more.

She’d never reveal the truth.

The real problem was far more insidious and embarrassing. She’d never tell anyone the truth. On foot she could use her spidey-senses to figure out where to go and her inability to tell left from right would stay her secret.


	143. Raising the Bar 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-series

A sigh drew her attention, but she resisted turning. From the corner of her eye, she could see Buffy slumped against the window, her usual dour expression on her pretty face.

Dour never used to be a word associated with Buffy. She was a California girl - vivacious, cheerful, outgoing, (though vacuous and shallow had crossed Joyce’s mind once or twice).

Between the deaths last year, the divorce and now the move, it was no wonder Buffy’d turned grim. Joyce would just set the cheerfulness bar a little higher until Buffy snapped out of it.

Her determined smile never faltered.


	144. Raising the Bar 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 1

There was a girl’s bathroom at Sunnydale High that nobody used. She’d noticed it the first week. Buffy didn’t know why, though after meeting Giles and hearing about the Hellmouth, she suspected it had something to do with the high mortality rate.

All she knew was that it was a good place to go cry alone.

She’d been trying so hard. Trying to be a good daughter, a good student, a good friend and a good slayer. Trying, but still letting everyone down. And now she’s got a death sentence.

Well, at least they weren’t raising the bar too high.


	145. Raising the Bar 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 3

“I’m a new man, Dru,” Angel said, slapping her bare ass. She squealed at the pain, but didn’t stop licking her way down his chest. “Back in the old days we spent as much time running as killing. Sure, we made a scene when we could,” Dru giggled and dipped her head, “but we were always just one step ahead of the torches and pitchforks.” He yanked Dru up by the hair, sinking teeth into breast and cock into cool wetness. “Well, I’m raising the bar. We’ll end this town, and that blonde bitch’ll wish I’d fucked her to death.”


	146. Raising the Bar 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 3

He’d hoped his father would be proud when he announced he was going to California. He’d been chosen, dammit, been offered what no other Watcher had ever dreamed of.

But overhearing his father with Travers disabused him of all those fantasies.

“You expect too much. He may be my son, but the fact is that he has none of my talents. The bar is higher for a Wyndam-Pryce, and the boy simply doesn’t cut it. Frankly, I think he takes after his mother’s side. Her people haven’t been Watchers for three generations.”

Wesley wondered just how high that bar was.


	147. Raising the Bar 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 4

Willow didn’t understand how it kept happening. How she kept getting in over her head until finally Buffy rescued her? She was smart – what she didn’t find out from a book she could figure out. She had power – her magic was getting better everyday.

Well, it was getting better until yesterday, when she stood in some freaky demon world, watching horror-struck as her friends fought against danger she’d put them in.

With cookies and apologies she begged them for forgiveness. She had to raise the bar and get her magic under control. She’d do it; after all, she wasn’t Xander.


	148. Raising the Bar 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 5

Buffy sucked.

She spent all her time with her friends or patrolling. Anyone but Dawn. She’d go to the Bronze or any one of who-knows-how-many cemeteries. Anywhere but home.

It was so typical. ‘Dawn’s in danger, gotta protect her’. By sending her to school with Xander? By having her sit in the Magic Box with Giles? Yeah, they’ll be a lot of help if something happened.

Dawn got it, she really did. Mom was gone and they were both freaking. It’s not like Dawn expected her to live up to the bar Mom set; she just wanted her sister here.


	149. Raising the Bar 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 6

He had to get out of this.

There was nothing in his mind except escaping. No, not escaping. He wasn’t really running from Anya. He was running for her. Yeah. Xander was saving her – if he wasn’t around, the future he’d see wouldn’t come true, and Anya would be happy. Eventually, she’d see what a close call she’d had and forgive him. Leaving was the right thing, no matter what his friends said. They didn’t really know the truth, didn’t know how bad it would be.

He was so afraid he’d live down to the bar his father had set.


	150. Raising the Bar 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 7

The potentials thought she was awesome. She really listened, really understood their fears. It didn’t hurt that she was still hot and strong. Sure, Buffy was good looking and definitely hadn’t lost those Slayer muscles, but the past two years had really taken their toll. Faith may have been the one in jail, but Buffy was the one who looked tired and worn out.

She’d always assumed that the bar Buffy set was unreachable, so she didn’t even try. But now it was B who couldn’t hack the responsibility and expectations, and Faith who was surrounded by the worshipping kids.


	151. Raising the Bar 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Series comics season 8

They were cool.

They’d seen so much. Faced danger and lived to tell the tale. Not that they ever really talked about their pasts. But you could still tell they were cool. 

Xander, up in the control room giving orders.  
Willow, flying all over the world with her magic powers.  
Dawn, so down to earth even though she was a giant.  
Giles, with the melty accent and all the knowing.  
Faith, totally independent and a fantastic fighter.  
And Buffy. She was always so smart and organized.

They set the bar high – but she was a Slayer. She could do it.


End file.
